


the hollow maiden

by ElasticElla



Category: From Dusk Till Dawn: The Series, Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: (fdtd), (teen wolf), Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Blood and Gore, Compulsive Heterosexuality, Crossover Pairings, F/F, Post-Season/Series 02
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-29
Updated: 2016-05-29
Packaged: 2018-07-10 23:39:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,010
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7013143
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ElasticElla/pseuds/ElasticElla
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“I wanna go somewhere else,” Katie says, “somewhere far away. To start new.” </p>
<p>Violet grins, “We can do that.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	the hollow maiden

**Author's Note:**

> okay so the canon divergence is that kate argent's claws got deep enough in violet to turn her
> 
> other warnings: brief homophobic language/slur use by an unsympathetic oc, brief self harm, & vomiting

Kate wakes up, mouth full of sand and lungs itching with it. There's a deep pulse in her belly, that she barely recognizes as hunger. It's beyond loud, deafening and her limbs are too heavy to move.

This isn't hell.

It's not that Katie wanted to die, or that she didn't want to go to heaven- but her mother would be in hell. Maybe her father too, she isn't sure if culebras count as human or not, as murder or not. (And she, well, she didn't, _couldn't_ belong near pearly gates anymore. There was no question of where she would go.)

But this isn't hell. 

The sand is annoying sure, specks keep getting picked up by the wind and flung into her hair and face. But the heat, oh, Katie feels like a cat, lounging beneath the sun in a content warmth. It's much more dreamlike than hell-like, and just like a dream her body is whole again without explanation. 

Just like a dream, there's a girl approaching her. 

She blocks out the sun, light tinging her dark edges like fire. Her smile is sharp, and she's an almost painful type of beautiful. 

She looks like an avenging angel, or maybe a fallen one. 

She could be Lucifer, and Kate would still be dazedly smiling up at her, would maybe offer to be her Persephone. Kate used to be good about keeping her metaphors straight, Kate used to be good at lots of things. Kate used to _be_ good, she thinks, a slick manic laugh echoing around her head. Preacher's daughter strikes again-

“I'm Violet,” the girl says, lips twisted up into an overly suggestive smile. “What shall I call you?” 

The girl's hands are smooth and she pulls Katie up easily. And Kate _has_ to think of her as a girl, because Violet looks to be her own age and if Violet's a woman then-

“Katie,” she says, because it's younger and somehow that's less painful than the reminder of her father calling her Katie-cakes. Odd. She didn't think wearing the skin of a killer would get easier, but it did. _Patricide_ doesn't feel branded on her forehead anymore, gone with the bullet holes. 

“Wanna get out of here?” the angel asks.

And Kate nods, follows her out of the desert. 

.

Violet offers her blood, walks a sacrifice to the dingy motel room she has. It feels out of order, Kate should be offering, has been worshiping since she knew what words were. And if there ever was a god, goddess, on earth it would be Violet. 

He looks like Kyle, makes crude comments about the three of them while Violet smirks, and it doesn't feel like a dream anymore. The hunger is more immediate now, fangs slipping past her lips. The kid is laughing, makes a joke about watching the teeth by his cock, and Kate sinks into his neck. 

He doesn't look like Kyle anymore. 

(Kate hadn't really believed the blood tasting like fruit flavors, but there's no mistaking the refreshing taste of watermelon in her mouth.)

“Thank you,” Katie finally says, self consciously wiping her face on her sleeve. 

Violet smiles, “I know better than to hang out with a hungry culebra. And it's been so long since I've had any company my age, it'd be a shame to have to kill you.” 

Kate gulps, pushing her hair behind her ears. “Are you a hunter?” 

Violet's skin shimmers, faint spots appearing briefly with a flash of supernaturally blue eyes. “Not anymore.” 

.

Violet knows a lot about culebras for a previous hunter who claimed to never hunt them while human. She knows lots of things, her eyes glint with danger, yet Kate wants to trust her, falls into thinking of their motel room as home too easily. 

They discover pretty quickly that Katie's power is to withstand sunlight without burning. 

“Subtle,” Violet declares, “that's good. Most hunters will miss you.” 

Violet's good with tactics like that, knows which humans won't be missed and will follow two maybe legal girls back to their room. They're _despicable_ , Kate thinks, guiltlessly ripping out their throats. 

.

They've been living together for a week when Violet asks. Katie's grown comfortable, has a routine set in place to avoid house cleaning and noon, when Violet likes to shower and air dry herself. (The first time, Kate lost her breath, couldn't even identify what type of hunger she was feeling and Violet laughed at her.)

“Where do you wanna go?” 

And Kate doesn't have a quick answer. 

She can't go back to Bethel, doesn't want to find the remnants of her family or the newly found one. There's a little bit of guilt at that, like an itch beneath her foot. Scott _wanted_ her to change, wanted her to be like him so they could be a family again. 

But he failed her.

Scott and Seth and Richie, she tore herself apart for them, gave them all the goodness in her soul and they only repaid her with death. Her love for them left with her heartbeat, and even the sharp vengeance on her lips before death is stale now. 

“I wanna go somewhere else,” Katie says, “somewhere far away. To start new.” 

Violet grins, “We can do that.” 

(Late at night, Katie wants to second guess her decision. But it's for the best- she'd never been a good sister, and Scott would surely be better off without her.)

.

Katie's last meal at the motel is nothing like the others: he's rich and rude, demands they kiss each other before the door is even closed. 

“Well?” He demands, “what are you waiting for?” 

And Violet slams the door, and Kate lets her fangs fall early, _wants_ him to be afraid. He's begging, and Violet's laughter echos around her as she drains him dry.

He tastes like blueberries- she never liked those. 

.

Violet sets up a crossing with someone named Hector, using a few dozen words in Spanish Kate doesn't recognize and doesn't want to ask about. It's embarrassing enough that she's been living in Mexico for two years and still isn't as fluent as she'd like to be, she doesn't want to admit to it. 

Hector's smile is just as sharp as a real coyote's, and Kate doesn't like him on sight. Doesn't like the way his eyes roam over the group of older women and children, assessing. Most of them are afraid, and Kate vows to keep a close eye on him. 

They travel at night, and Kate misses bathing in the sun. It's cold, colder than Kate's ever remembered being, making her bones shake and teeth chatter. The hunger is stronger than usual, but Violet warned her that she'd be going a few days on an empty stomach, she's prepared for that. It's the cold she wasn't ready for, the cold that Katie blames for not noticing today's hideaway building smells like stale blood. And then Hector's cocking a gun at Maria, just eight years old and Kate sees red.

She rips into him, blood soaking her teeth, screams chiming in her ears. She lets the monster take over, wants him completely _eradicated_. Violet's saying, yelling maybe, something and Kate doesn't care- she's ending him, ending him _now_. Ending every little bit of him that ever existed, eating every bite she can find of him. 

Her hunger isn't sated, it never is, but she comes close this time- her belly full and warm, and hunger pangs just barely felt, like a muffled thunder clap. 

When Kate finally stops, she's soaked in blood from head to toe. There's only one heartbeat, and with a growing sense of dread, Katie looks around the room with human eyes. It looks straight out of a slasher film, body parts and blood everywhere.

She killed them all, oh god she- every body is torn past recognition and Katie's going to be sick. Needs to get out _now_. 

Outside feels hotter than ever, humid and suffocating. Katie vomits two steps out of the building, falls to her knees and it just keeps coming out, a dark soupy mix of flesh and blood. It feels wasteful, but recognizing who it was makes it even worse, makes her body try harder to purge everything. There's a bead from Maria's necklace and she's crying and sick and she's never hated anything as much as she hates herself. She's the worst type of monster, oh god, why didn't she stop, why didn't she-

Violet comes out, puts a hand on her back and hands her a water bottle. 

“You didn't stop me,” Kate accuses. 

“No.”

Kate doesn't understand, tries again, “ _Why_ didn't you stop me?” 

Violet blinks slowly, almost looks like she's holding back a mocking smile. “Witnesses.”

Kate scrambles backwards on all fours, away from Violet, away from the mess, away from the building, away from everything. 

“Oh don't be like that,” Violet says, following, boots sinking into the sand. “Would you have rather killed them in cold blood?” 

“I would have rather not killed them at all! You turned me into a monster!” Kate yells, standing up. 

Violet snorts, “Pretty sure I found you like that princess.”

“You might not have turned me into a culebra, but you _did_ turn me into a monster.” 

Violet's near smile drops at that, eyes cold. “I didn't _make_ you do anything, darling. _You_ decided your life was worth more than petty scum. _You_ wanted to live.” 

“I was wrong,” Kate whispers, can't look at anything that isn't Violet. She can still smell it, and her stomach turns over. 

“Well,” Violet says, softer. “you're a little late for regret now. But you can stop, don't drink anymore blood and only feed on your own guilt. Let yourself fade into the desert, turn into a ghost screaming into the wind. You could be a legend.” 

“How- how can you say that?” Katie asks.

“Because the quicker your little pity party is over, the quicker we'll be out of the desert and somewhere with air conditioning.” 

Kate gulps, “Okay.” 

She doesn't look back. Dropping the memory like a snakeskin to crumble in the sun.

(It's even easier than giving up God.)

.

Violet doesn't like to share about herself, so Kate has a little list in her head of significant things she's discovered:

1\. Violet is a werejaguar. (The easiest one to observe.)  
2\. Violet hates milk in her cereal, and will refuse to eat it like that. Pouting until Kate fixes it.   
3\. Someone- family? friend? lover?- died recently, and Kate should _not_ ask about the necklace she wears.  
4\. Her claws are longer than Kate's, sharper too.  
5\. If they got into a real fight, Kate's pretty sure Violet could kill her.

That last fact should be more worrying. 

(There's more and maybe if Kate had a real list she'd keep track better, but there's no way she's committing any of this to a physical existence.)

.

Crossing the border isn't so bad, only mildly uncomfortable. 

It helps that both of them are willing to kill anyone who tries to stop them, and no human has a chance against them. 

These people are easy kills, _bad_ people who would have attacked anyone immigrating. 

(The first one tastes like strawberries, the second like plums, the third like mangoes.) 

.

They go north and east, a new direction for both of them. They alternate between stealing cars to drive for a bit before crashing them and walking, hitchhiking sometimes to make the cycle smoother with blood. They try a few motorcycles for kicks, but they always crash those quickly, get unbalanced. Ecstatic and laughing as they pick themselves up off the roadside's sparse vegetation, healing as they walk towards each other. 

In Virginia, a boy calls them dykes over breakfast while Violet laughs at his attempt to flirt with them. Violet's happy enough to keep laughing and leave, but Kate isn't so good with forgiveness anymore. 

She rips out his throat behind the cafe, slow enough to hear him beg and scream and apologize and cry. 

(Grape.)

.

Traveling through Maryland, Kate thinks _lesbian_ about a million times, tasting and re-tasting the word. It doesn't quite fit, it _can't_ \- she dated, she frenched Kyle. She was happy with him. She's never even kissed a girl before, she would have done that by now right? 

Whatever. Breakfast bastard didn't know what he was talking about, and he's dead now- his words don't count. 

.

In Delaware, Kate makes the mistake of imagining kissing Violet. Of both of them transformed and rolling around the desert, harsh and hot and unforgivable. 

She crashes the car an hour early, and Violet crawls out of the wreckage with a frown, and Kate keeps her eyes up on Violet's, away from the torn clothes, pushing a blush down. 

“Could have just said you wanted to walk, Calamity Kate.” 

“Sorry.” 

“Any other brilliant ideas you wanna bounce off me before implementing?” Violet asks, pouring the spare five gallons of gasoline all over the car's interior. 

“No,” Kate quickly says, and Violet snorts. 

“Fine, keep your plans a surprise,” Violet says, tossing a match. 

Violet insists on them going somewhere with a good lasagna for dinner, says she gets to pick since Kate picked how to park. Violet always chooses anyways, normal food doesn't taste good to Kate since she changed, and Violet's metabolism requires at least two dishes. It leads to Violet often ordering for both of them, Kate trying not to think about how much it feels like a date. 

Kate's gotten good at ditching a check, asking their waiter to show her the bathroom while Violet leaves. The casual walk out is easy when she doesn't care anymore. 

.

Important fact #8:

Violet loves to do the crossword, will always flip through free newspapers for them. She's also _terrible_ at doing them, halfway through tends to give up and fill the rest of the puzzle out however she feels like. 

Sometimes she likes Kate helping her, sometimes she doesn't. Kate hasn't figured out any correlation yet.

.

Kate remembers being jealous of Jessica when she was younger. Jessica's perfect blonde curls, Jessica's cute nail polish, Jessica's quaint soft laugh echoing around her head. 

Jealousy was a sin, but it wasn't as bad as being a lesbian. 

(She remembers Kisa dancing, remembers carrying Jessica to a shallow grave and it's too late- she's going to hell anyways.)

.

“What do I taste like?” Violet asks in Connecticut.

She slices her arm open, lets some blood drip down before healing herself. It's erotic and horrible that it feels that way, and Kate is a _monster_. She shouldn't think Violet looks beautiful at all, much less like this.

(Her favorite: cranberries.)

.

They stop in Rhode Island, Violet says it has the lowest rates of hunters and supernaturals, they should be fairly safe to stay for a while. 

It's cold, far colder than Mexico and Kate's new skin aches to be bathed in heat. She takes long showers that turn her skin red and keeps their sublet at temperatures that can't be comfy for Violet. She shrugs it off, lets Kate control the thermostat. Violet has a cheap pool set up in their tiny backyard for herself, ends up in it naked most days. 

Kate's getting really good at not looking at Violet anywhere except for her eyes. 

.

In April, Kate gets high for the first time with Violet. It doesn't feel as rebellious as she once imagined, but it makes it easier to feel. 

Violet tells her about a boy named Garrett, one she used to live with. He's the one that gave her the necklace she always wears, and Kate shouldn't be relieved that he's dead. Jealousy still bubbles in her stomach, and maybe, maybe it's time to embrace being a monster. It isn't such a scary thought like this, watching Violet blow smoke rings in their empty living room.

They could be monsters together. 

(Or maybe it's been like that all along, and Kate's just slow to catch up.)

.

They both get jobs for appearance's sake and rent. Also for the restaurants Violet wants to visit more than once, like her favorite sushi place on the water. 

Working retail at the mall is hell, but it provides for an easy feeding ground and plenty of easily spotted assholes. (There's a woman who won't stop screaming at her like she's not even human- which well, she isn't- but this is beyond rude and Kate enjoys her pomegranate blood thoroughly.) 

Violet informs her that they have an extra hundred thousand for spending in May, orders a sushi boat for five for herself in celebration. She's happy and loose enough to tell Kate that she used to be an assassin, and an easy job fell into her lap. 

Kate dreams of Violet killing, _slaughtering_ , wakes up wet and cold. 

(She can never tell when her culebra dreams are real or not, but lord she hopes it happened.)

.

It's June and there's a boy that wants to take Kate on a date. She says yes mostly by mistake, distracted by Violet's approach in a dress that can't possibly cover enough to avoid public indecency. 

He's a perfectly nice boy, their date is pleasant, like a flashback to before as they trade bible verses over milkshakes. She can't remember his name, and he reminds her so much of Kyle- simple and kind.

But chocolate milkshakes don't taste good anymore, and he tries to kiss her at the end. 

“Sorry Kyle,” she says, and it's a formality, a hollow joke to herself- she hasn't felt penitence in ages. 

(Clementines.)

.

Kate doesn't have nightmares. 

Maybe if she did, she'd still pretend to be good. 

.

Violet kisses her on a humid August day, hot enough that both of them are outside. Her kisses don't taste like cranberries, they taste like coffee and her cinnamon mouthwash. 

“I got tired of waiting for you,” Violet declares, and Katie can't think of any words. So she kisses her instead, careful to keep her nails and teeth short. 

Violet tastes like forever.


End file.
